


The Last Night

by Some_Dwarven_Writer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley loves stars, Damaged wings, Flying, M/M, Night flying, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Dwarven_Writer/pseuds/Some_Dwarven_Writer
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have a simple routine since the apocalypse hadn't happened. One day, bored with the repetition, Crowley needs something to do. Aziraphale seeing his opening to bring about a change he's been dreading, gives the demon just that.A short flight through London and a heart to heart later they're back in the book shop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands - Relationship, Ineffable Spouses - Relationship
Kudos: 18





	1. Crowley's Apartment

Crowley was bored. Worse than bored, really. He knew what he wanted and it was right there but it was reading a damned book again. He groaned, head lulling against the painful, fashion over function armrest of his rock hard sofa, “Bored. ‘M bored, Angel!” He whined.

“Mhm,” Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgment. He licked his thumb and flipped to the next page, “Would you like to try watching the television again? Or perhaps playing an electronic game on your telephone?” 

“Cell,” He mumbled, “No.” Crowley sat up and turned to glare at the angel. Aziraphale was sat quite comfortable in the squishy armchair he’d had moved to Crowley’s place the day after the end of the world didn’t happen. The glow of a standing lamp illuminated the angel in heavenly tones. Over his reading glasses, Aziraphale’s eyes flickered to watch the demon for a moment then returned to the text. 

“What is on your mind, my dear boy?” The angel cooed in that too sweet tone he always used when he knew what he was saying would get to Crowley. It did. The demon shivered and pouted.

“We should go do something,” Crowley insisted. Aziraphale nodded dutifully, obviously paying more attention to the text before him than what his demon was saying. Crowley sighed, slender shoulders falling. His snake-like pupil wandered to the balcony. Night had fallen over the city. Shadows pulled at the buildings, fought off only by the painful glimmer of neon signs and traffic lights. Crowley winced and looked to the sky. The light pollution of the city had baked out the glimmer of the far off stars, leaving the night sky dull and dun without any mystery or magic. Crowley missed seeing the stars. Real stars, not just the brightest. He missed being able to look up and see the Milky Way galaxy-spanning across the dark expanse like a sash of light. He slid off the couch and traipsed over to the sliding door. Hands pressed to the cool glass, Crowley leaned against it, gazing up into the washed-out sky. 

Aziraphale watched the demon go. He was in the middle of a very promising chapter and was loathed to put it down. But as Crowley pressed his forehead to the glass sliding door, Aziraphale’s fingers had already nimbly returned his silver bookmark to its place in between the pages. He silently placed the book down and made his way over to the moping demon. Deftly, he slipped an arm around Crowley’s waist and pressed his cheek against the back of the demon’s lithe shoulder. 

“Whatever is the matter?” He asked softly. Crowley shrugged in way of answer, “I believe we should find some way to entertain ourselves.” 

“What’s that, then?” Crowley leaned back into Aziraphale’s touch. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. He saw is opening for the first time since he'd realized how they needed to proceed. With words so soft they were barely a whisper, the angel said, “Fly with me.” Crowley jerked his head, sharp jaw angled towards his companion. 

His golden eyes lingered on the portions of Aziraphale’s features he could make out beyond the tuft of pale hair, “I- don’t know-” Aziraphale released the demon’s waist, standing back and stretching. Crowley turned to face him, back still slouched against the glass. 

The angel closed his eyes, sighing as he stretched his muscles, “Oh, come now. I take brilliant care of your wings,” He paused, pale green eyes opening to meet Crowley’s, “If you are truly so worried, I can preen your wings again,” He paused and smiled ever so slightly, “But we both know that would feel a great deal more enjoyable after a flight. Even a quick one,” He pleaded.

Crowley sighed, a small smile playing at his own lips, “Alright,” Aziraphale beamed. The demon couldn’t help but melt a little inside. 

“That’s a good lad,” He chirped appreciatively. With a practiced hand, Aziraphale began disrobing, peeling away his many layers of clothing. He slipped out of his coat and plucked away at the bottoms of his vest. All the while he felt the demon’s eyes were on him. Crowley, for his part, hadn’t moved from his spot against the sliding glass door. He felt pinned to it by his own apprehension. That and it was distracting to have Aziraphale strip in front of him, even if it was just to his undershirt and trousers. The angel tutted at Crowley’s frozen from, “I wouldn’t wish to ruin a perfectly good coat,” He traced his eyes up the demon’s still clothed figure and frowned ever so slightly. 

“Right,” Crowley nodded. He began to take off his own top layer of clothing but paused, conscious of Aziraphale’s full attention upon him, “Just don’t stare like that. Might give me ideas.”

The angel chuckled musically and nodded, “I wouldn’t dream of giving you ideas,” Nudging Crowley aside, Aziraphale pulled open the door to the balcony. Night wind fluttered into the apartment, chilling Crowley’s slowly exposing skin. The demon shiver. 

Aziraphale stepped purposefully out to the rail, where he leaned against it precariously. His eyes were contentedly closed as he basked in the feeling the wind’s cool breath against his bare skin. Feathered wings, silver as starlight and wider than a man is tall, rose from the skin on the angel’s back. Aziraphale’s wings were undoubtedly beautiful. He took care of them a bit too well. Not that Crowley minded. Another little humanizing sin for his angel. Aziraphale flexed and stretched his sliver white wings the way he’d stretched his muscles, readying himself for the challenge ahead. Aziraphale turned back, wings still outstretched. His pale green eyes surveyed the demon. Crowley had disrobed down to his black undershirt but hadn’t stepped too far onto his balcony, still hiding under the shelter of his apartment. With a sympathetic smile, Aziraphale held out his hand. Crowley took it. The angel’s soft fingers wrapped around the demon’s slender ones, pulling him into the night, “Need assistance?” He asked softly. 

Crowley shrugged, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” 

The angel hummed in agreement, tucking his wings tight against his back so they didn’t get in the way of ordinary function. Crowley turned to watch the city. So alive. So human. He felt hands press against his shoulder blades, massaging the muscles there. Crowley couldn’t help but lean into the pressure. Nimble fingers danced over where fabric met flesh. The demon shivered despite himself. 

“Relax,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley bit back his retort. He let his eyelids slide closed. With the darkness taking his sight, Crowley was better able to pay attention to his other senses. The cool wind that kissed his skin, the angel’s hands massaging his muscles, and the sounds of human life spreading out before the two celestial beings. His shoulders fell.

Aziraphale hummed approvingly as dark matted feathers formed beneath his fingers. He pulled back, letting Crowley flex his disused limbs. They were a gruesome sight. Aziraphale hated that he still thought as much even after years of knowing those wings, of touching them and caring for them. Falling came with its own batch of curses. The burned wings were by far the most frightening to Aziraphale. Crowley’s wings had once been beautiful. The same shining auburn as his hair. He still had a few patches red feathers, or partially unburied areas. Aziraphale was always pleased to see them. He silently hoped more would grow in but they never did. Now his wings were ragged and blackened despite Aziraphale’s proper weekly grooming. The angel remembered when he’d first preened his companion's wings. It had been a mess. Many of the primary and secondary feathers were baked together and just touching the wings had made Crowley wince. It had taken years to get them back to being flight worthy. In a craggy, stilted motion, Crowley tucked his wings against his back. They didn’t sit nearly as neatly as Aziraphale’s. He always looked a bit like a bird with a broken wing when he tried it.

Crowley turned to face Aziraphale. The angel smiled soothingly up at him, “Shall we?” He asked, indicating to the ledge. 

The demon nodded, “After you.” 

Aziraphale hoisted himself up onto the rail, feet dangling over the edge, “See you in the air, dear,” With that, he pushed off. The darkness swallowed him as he dropped from the balcony. Crowley crept forward to glance over the ledge just as a pair of starlight wings breached level with the balcony once more. The angel soared up into the sky faster than seemed possible. Crowley chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Uncertainly, he pulled himself up onto the ledge. Like a child’s first time off the diving board, he paused, scared of the jump. He looked to the stream of traffic below, quivering ever so slightly. What if he fell? What if his wings gave out? A downbeat of huge wings and Aziraphale was by his side, bobbing in mid-air. 

“I’ll catch you,” The angel panted between wing beats. In the darkness, Crowley searched for his angel’s eyes, meeting them. The pure childish joy on Aziraphale’s face was undeniable, “I promise.” Crowley nodded and jumped. Air rushed past his face. He had to force his eyes open as they streamed with tears. He clenched his teeth. He felt the updraft tickle the tip of his nose and dance in the farthest bristles of auburn hair. Crowley cursed and forced his aching wings to open. After a long terrifying moment, they did. His burnt feathers caught the wind. The air pushed him upward and with a few quick wing beats, he was on level with Aziraphale once more. 

He gasped and smiled at the angel, “Ha! I did it!”

Aziraphale let out a breathless chuckled, “I knew your would,” He grazed their wingtips in a downbeat and nodded to the expansive sky, “Let's see what we can find.” Crowley nodded. Together they soared into the stars. 


	2. Above London

Together the few up into the pale dark depths of the city night’s sky. Their wings mirroring each other's actions in a rhythmic dance. In time, they rose to the cloud level. That is, cloud level if there would have been any clouds in sight. Far away from the city’s glamor and commotion, Crowley could see the clear night sky. How beautiful it was, with pure and full darkness boarding the spotted glimmering of far off stars. Although he’d like to, Crowley dared not gawk too long. The way his unsteady wings made him wobble in mid-air told him that much. Beside him, Aziraphale wove nonsense patterns like new and exciting constellations in the sky. The angel’s steadiness was in direct contrast with Crowley’s jagged flight patterns. His comfort in the wind, the inverse of Crowley’s tossed about form. 

From on high, the angel and the demon could see all of the city below. Life, vivid in colorful neon light, with only scant patches of resting darkness. One such dark patch was the Thames, a giant dark serpent that slithered through the heart of the city. As they sped along the wind patterns of central London, Aziraphale seemed to dance with the wind as his partner. He sped far ahead with such simplicity. In the breath of a second, he’d tucked his wings into a dive before snapping them open and coming back to level with the demon. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s gaze and beamed. It was the sort of smile that lit up his entire face and Crowley’s entire world. The demon was barely able to return the gesture before the angel was off again. Aziraphale was, unequivocally, the best flier Crowley had ever met. Crowley knew for a fact that the angel didn’t even keep up the skill. Yet, he took to it again seamlessly. The wind carried him, supported his shining feathers as though they were one.

As they made an uneven trail about the city skyline, a chill formed out of the night's wind began to settle into Crowley’s ancient bones. The dull aching radiated down his wings with every beat. He gritted his now chattering teeth, “Aziraphale,” Crowley called out weakly but the wind whipped away his words and his angel was too far to hear his plea. 

From his place in the sky, the angel watched the city below. This was the last time he’d see it in this way. He wanted to remember it in every detail. Aziraphale was free. It was more than just his freedom from the ground and from the solidity of everything down below, where the world was so human and so real. He was finally free of scorn. He was free to do what he wished when he liked to, with whomever he wanted to do it with. The simple pleasure of spending time with Crowley without having to worry about their physical safety was a privilege the angel was still getting used to. He looked to Crowley, finding the lean demon struggling to catch up from quite a distance behind him. Unbeknownst to the angel, Aziraphale had let the wind drift him farther away from his demonic companion than he should have allowed. Aziraphale always forgot to what extent Crowley’s tattered wings hindered his speed. He set himself in an air pocket with just enough drag to about equate his companion’s predicament. After a time, the demon caught up. Aziraphale could see that he was breathing heavily, brow slick with a layer of sweat. Crowley's whole body quivered against the whipping summer night winds. The air was colder higher up in the atmosphere, something Aziraphale had also neglected to remember. 

Crowley, for his part, was trying to ignore the fact that he could no longer feel his extremities. His body felt numb and sluggish. He was, although not completely cold-blooded in this form, more sensitive to changes in temperature than his angel ever seemed to be. Wings flapping feebly and breath panting, his lungs screamed for air. This was more exercise than the demon had taken part in for years. He was more of a 'sleep through everything' sort of guy. Crowley could feel eyes on him. Blearily, he searched to meet them. 

“Let’s find somewhere to land, my dear,” Crowley watched Aziraphale’s lips move, his voice just barely cutting through the all-consuming wind. The demon nodded. Like a vulture circling prey, Aziraphale titled in the sky, starting his cycling descent. The weary demon followed gracelessly. Aziraphale found his target, a patch of near darkness in the sea of light. He swooped downward, his ears popping with the descent in elevation. He tried to keep an eye on Crowley. Despite his sluggishness and disadvantaged wings, the demon was mirror Aziraphale’s movements with expertise. Polished shoes scraped against the concrete as the angel pulled off a flawless landing. He tucked his wings and turned in time to pull Crowley into his arms as the demon stumbled against the unforgiving ground. 

With the lithe man pressed to his chest, it was much easier to assess his condition. Crowley was cold to the touch and far too pale. Without thinking on it, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, pulling one of his own cream-colored coats out of the air. 

“Aren’t you the one always ragging on about not using miracles unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Crowley’s teeth chattered as he nuzzled into the warmth of Aziraphale’s torso. 

“This is necessary,” the angel said in a matter of fact tone that brokered no argument. With that, he looped the coat lengthwise around Crowley’s shoulders, careful not to get it caught on the edges of his wings. Crowley nodded, basking in the heat of Aziraphale’s self-regulating body. There they stood. Perhaps it was a long while, perhaps a short. Neither angel nor demon knew. The sounds of the city night filled the air around them. Cars speeding along slowly emptying streets and an occasional blaring horn. The burble of the river beside them as it went on its merry way. Night insects singing their love ballads. Each other’s panting breaths, slowly returning to a normal rhythm. 

Aziraphale was exhausted. He was glad he’d had Crowley there to stop him from spending his whole night in the air. He ran his manicured hands through Crowley’s bristled auburn hair. The demon hummed approvingly. 

“Feeling any better, darling?” He pressed the whisper into the hair above the demon's ear.

Crowley nodded, pulling back from the embrace slowly as though he was just waking, “Yeah a bit,” He looked around, “Angel where are we?”

“I choose the nearest park,” Aziraphale shrugged, “It just so happened to be one of our old favorites,” It didn’t ‘just so happen to be' exactly where Aziraphale had wanted them to land. He had led them there with a purpose. 

St. James Park, the destination for all secretive meetings between those on opposing sides. There were a lot of memories here beside the shadowed river. Crowley watched the water flash with ambient light. False stars. He sighed tightly, relieving some of the tension in his chest. He remembered the last time they’d stood on this patch of pavement. He’d been unexpectedly hauled off by a batch of heaven's angels while wearing Aziraphale’s face. The distant look in Aziraphale’s eyes told Crowley he remembered the moment well. The angel hadn’t expected that. Sure, they’d both expected Hell to come for Crowley. They hadn’t expected a rude note sending Heaven to try and execute Aziraphale. Still, they’d lived through it, no reason to dwell in the past. 

“I think,” Aziraphale’s voice was pitched high and shook on the edges, “perhaps we should leave London. We could retire to the countryside. There are lots of lovely little cottages by the sea,” Crowley eyed Aziraphale, his own emotions too confused to play one simply on his features. The angel went on, “South Downs is charming. Have you ever been? There’s so much open space. No one would bother us.” London was their home. They’d been there almost longer than the city had. 

Crowley nodded, “Yeah. We’ve been here too long as is.” 

“Precisely,” Aziraphale said in mock brightness. He offered his elbow and Crowley looped his arm around it. The two walked, arm and arm down the path, wings brushing with every step. They went on in silence, content with their own thoughts. Aziraphale hoped he hadn’t sprung the idea of leaving on Crowley too suddenly. He had been trying to work it into conversations for a while now. They needed to leave. While Heaven and Hell had their home addresses they were still unsafe.

The lights of distant cars flickered between well-spaced trees, “Although it is a lovely night for a stroll, perhaps we should get a cab back to the book shop?” Crowley nodded, “My dear,” Aziraphale paused mid-step, pressing a hand to Crowley’s chest to stop him as well, “You are alright?” 

“Course,” The demon said, his face obscured in shadow, “There’s a lot of history here. I’m just starting on a goodbye.” 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale whispered. He threw his arms about the demon’s slight form, hugging him tight. 

Crowley yelped in surprise, but with time, looped his own arms around the angel, “It’ll be fine. As long as we have each other we don’t really need anything else.” Aziraphale’s head bobbed against the demon’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” He breathed the word out like it was life itself. Pulling himself together, Aziraphale straightened up. He patted down his clothes, tsking, “Dear me, we're practically naked.”

Crowley laughed, handing Aziraphale his coat, “wings away and button-up, Angel. I don’t mind showing a bit of skin.” With that, he started towards the road in not but his dark tank top and trousers. His hands, rested in his pockets as dark jagged wings were replaced with nothingness. Bemused, Aziraphale watched the demon swagger away. What would he do without Crowley?


End file.
